


Shoot Me Down

by shitfanficmeup



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe - Mob, Badass Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bodyguard Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Deserves Happiness, Crime Boss Hank Anderson, Gun Violence, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank Anderson Tries, M/M, Mutual Pining, Probably ooc but idc, Protective Connor, Top Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 10:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shitfanficmeup/pseuds/shitfanficmeup
Summary: Hank Anderson is feared boss in the mob but his new bodyguard, Connor, manages to make his way into the feared mafia leader's heart... This isn't going to go well for anyone.(HankCon Mafia AU because there definitely isn't enough of those.)





	Shoot Me Down

His thick grey coat kept him slightly too warm in the dingy, loud, cramped basement. Even with everybody screaming and chanting, their attention focused solely on the ring in the middle of the crowd, as soon as the crowd laid eyes on Hank Anderson, a hush fell over the room. The chatter and cheers only picked back up when the owner of the bar rushed over to Hank and started to fret over him, “Mr. Anderson, can I get you a whiskey?”

Even with the recent uptake in his financial success, the sight of Hank gave the bar owner a horrible feeling of anxiety that made Hank feel only more powerful, “Yes and let’s have a chat.” Once they were sitting in one of the only tables in the middle of the chaos, Hank slowly sipped on his whiskey. He knew his sharp blue eyes could make even the toughest thugs withdraw with fear so he dug them in deep and asked, “So business is clearly good, Roger. Any problems?”

The business owner answered, “The usual. You know, nothing crazy.” But his attention was called away when somebody hollered his name. After being dismissed by Hank, he quickly scuttled away leaving the mafia leader and his assistant, Markus to watch the next boxing match. 

The announcer stood in the middle of the ring and shouted over the roar of the crowd, “Alright, folks! Up next we have Dominic fighting Connor. Let’s give them a good fight boys!"

Hank watched in surprise and fascination as Connor, who was much smaller than his competitor dodge punch after punch with quick foot movements and swift ducks. When he hit back, his strikes were effective and powerful. It didn’t take long for the larger male to be lying face down and unconscious on the ground. The fight was quick and calculated, this Connor was clearly a calm and trained fighter.

But things took a turn when a drunk, who had clearly placed a bet on the loser, chucked a beer bottle at Connor and shouted, “You fucking loser!” The slur was obvious in his voice as he spat hate at Connor. 

That is when Hank watched the change in Connor; he turned from a collected person to a wild and rage-fueled fighting machine as he dragged the assailant into the ring and started beating him mercilessly. Connor shouted in his now bloody face, “Think I’m a loser?! What the fuck do you think now asshole?! 

Who Hank assumed is the man’s friends grabbed Connor from behind but he didn’t last long either as Connor picked him up and slammed him into the floor in front of him. Hank was completely shocked and impressed as Connor yelled, “Anyone else?! Come on, assholes!”

Hank locked eyes with Connor who’s brown eyes were as hard as stone and boring holes into Hank’s soul, his face was bloody, his bare, sweaty was chest heaving, and his confidence was unyielding. He didn’t look frightened of Hank at all and their stare wasn’t broken until Roger grabbed Connor’s arm and dragged him into the back room, unknowingly being followed by Hank. 

Roger was busy berating Connor as the smaller male was pulling on his clothes and listening to his bosses anger, “What the fuck, Connor?! You’re done! I gave you a chance and you blew it! Get your shit and get the fuck out!”

Now that he was closer, Hank could see how small Connor really was. He was at least half a foot shorter than Hank and 50 pounds lighter than him. With Connor walking out the door, Hank addressed Roger, “Keep the people with the money happy.” And he followed Connor outside where his silhouette was quickly fading. Hank shouted down the damp, dark sidewalk, “Hey, kid! Stop!” When Connor didn’t, Hank felt his blood boil in a way that was drastically unfamiliar to him. He was so unused to people not listening to him, he clenched his fists by his sides and demanded, “Stop!”

Hank didn’t expect a gun to be pulled out at him and Connor’s fierce and unwavering voice to pierce the still night air, “What do you want?”

It sufficed to say that Hank was shocked that somebody had the guts to stand up to him like that, “You’re going to pull a gun on me? Do you know who I am?” His mouth contorted in confusion as his eyes crinkled at the edges. Faithfully at his side was a tense and nervous Markus.

“Hank Anderson. You’re a crime syndicate and you own more than half the city.” Connor’s finger was steady on the trigger and the scope aimed right in the middle of Hank’s strong chest. 

What neither Connor nor Markus were expecting was Hank to chuckle and shake his head before asking Connor, “Do you want a job?”

Markus’s jaw dropped in shock as he did a double take in Hank’s direction and asked in disbelief, “Sir?! Y-you can’t be serious?!” Hank just held up a gloved hand and Markus was instantly silenced, allowing Hank to continue his offer, “You’ll live in the house, have clothes on your back, and food to eat. All you’ll have to do is protect me. Better than the streets I’ll guess?”

Slowly but unsurely, Connor lowered his gun, his angry eyes turning scared and untrusting. He stared in silence until Hank tried to get through to him one more time, “Come with me. If you want to leave, you can. No strings attached.”

The only thing Connor could manage out of his tightly closed throat was a sarcastic, “No such thing.”

Hank smirked at him, exposing the small gap between his front teeth, “Smart kid.” He and Markus started to walk towards the close-by, parked black Chrysler 300 only pausing to look over his shoulder and call to Connor, “You coming?”

A million things rushed through his mind but eventually, he ended up landing on the thought that made most of his decisions, “Fuck it.” As he followed Hank into the back seat of the sleek car. 

Together, they sat in silence as they rolled along the dark, empty roads towards the outskirts of Detroit, an old jazz song playing lowly through the radio. 

They were the tires ground against the gravel drive was as they pulled through the tall iron gates. Connor was absolutely awe stuck at the magnitude of the large mansion with its seemingly endless windows and tall, pointed roofs. After they walked inside, Hank turned to his assistant and acknowledged him, “Markus, you can be dismissed for the night.”

Connor kept his gun and backpack, that held all of his belongings, close to him while Hank showed him around the large, winding halls and spacious rooms. It didn’t take him long for the silence and sheer ridiculousness of this whole situation to get to him, “So this is your life? Everybody just kisses your ass?” 

Hank’s large, strong and now ungloved hand found Connor’s shoulder and shoved him up against the closest wall and got inches from his face, trying to ignore how Connor’s brown eyes dilated, “You don’t know me, kid. I worked for this, I earned this respect.”

With Hank still pinning him against the hard wall, Connor looked up at the blue orbs staring at him and said without hesitation, “I’ll take the job.”

Finally releasing Connor, Hank started off down the hall, “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. Ground rules: you are to stay by my side, you are not to lie to me, you are not allowed to injure my staff, you are to do as I say.”

From behind him, Hank heard a very sarcastic and not at all sincere, “Yes, boss.”

Finally, inside Connor’s new room, Hank said his goodbyes until tomorrow morning and left Connor alone to get settled but it didn’t take him long once he got into the warm shower and continued to crank up the heat until his skin was red and the tension in his muscles was melting away. What wasn’t as pleasant was his wondering mind reflecting on just how the fuck he got here. All the arguments, leaving home at sixteen, living on the streets, the injuries, the fights, the pain, and mistreatment. He sighed and rolled his shoulders before finishing his shower. 

Pulling on the one clean pair of boxers he owned, Connor climbed into the queen size bed that was covered with silken sheets and a thick white down comforter. The plush pillows were by far the most comfortable thing Connor had ever felt in his life. It took him a surprisingly short amount of time to drift off to sleep. 

The next morning, Connor woke up to a knock on his bedroom door. While he was unhappy about being disturbed, he still got up and answered it, not caring about being mostly naked. He didn’t care until he realized it was Hank who was staring at him. 

Hungry eyes devoured his slim body and the freckles that speckled his pale skin. Hank grinned and held up the bags he was holding, “Glad I brought you clothes. If you work for me, you dress like it.”

With the bags in hand, Connor went into the bathroom to get dressed while Hank sat on Connor’s bed with a weapons case that contained two brand new black handguns and cases of shining bullets along with a leather chest holster that could hold both of the guns. When Connor came out of the bathroom in new pair of black slack and a button up white shirt, Hank nodded in approval, “Better, come here.”

Connor shyly walked over to where Hank was sitting and quietly let Hank’s large hands put the holster on him. He tried not to be audible as his breath caught in his throat but it got harder when Hank slid the now loaded, new weapons into the holster. His hands were just so large and warm and tempting to lean into but necessary to resist; Connor couldn’t be thinking about his boss like that. 

Awkwardly moving away from Hank, Connor tugged on his new black blazer to hide the weapons and followed Hank out of the room, opting to put the rest of his nice, fancy clothes away later. 

Their first meeting together was with a restaurant owner who decided to stir up some trouble by falling behind on his payments. They met in the empty restaurant with Connor walking slightly behind Hank but that didn’t last long. The second the owner took an aggressive step towards Hank, Connor was on high alert; he put his body between the two men and ordered for the other man to step back. Connor exuded confidence and control of the situation with his shoulders back and his head held high. With another client dealt with and the problem handled without any bloodshed, they got into their car to go back home with Markus driving in silence up front. 

Hank smirked over at Connor and tried not to let his eyes wander too far down the younger boy’s body, “You were not a mistake.” When Connor looked at him, Hank couldn’t stop himself from wrapping one of his large hands around Connor’s muscular thigh. 

Connor’s devious brown eyes locked onto Hank’s in a lustful stare until the tension was broken by Hank’s cellphone ringing in his jacket pocket. In a huff of frustration, he pulled it out and answered it, “Anderson… I’ll be there. Well, you tell him that’s not the way things are done. No, no! Little mother fucker… I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up and put his phone back while fixing his jacket, casually addressing Connor, “You have your guns loaded, right?”

Over time, Connor got better and better at his job; learning the ways Hank did his job and certain clients behaved or misbehaved. At night, Connor laid on his back thinking back on the day’s events and tomorrows meetings but no matter what, his mind always wandered back to Hank. His blue eyes that could be joyful and laughing with his staff while they sat together at dinner but change to a deadly icy grey that could strike fear into anyone in his path. He thought about his warm hands and strong shoulders, his large stature and the gap between his teeth. On these nights when he couldn’t stop thinking about Hank, Connor would climb out of bed and quietly sneak around the house until he ended up in the small gym that Hank had made for him. There, he worked out until he was sweaty and exhausted, only then could he finally get some rest. 

Connor spent his days bouncing between patrolling and being by Hank’s side. He stood stoically by Hank as the older man was growing more and more impatient with the businessman that was sat on the other side of the desk. 

His hands gripped the arms of his large chair as he growled, “Listen, you owe me money and I’m not looking to give you any more time.” The businessman started to flounder but Hank cut him off with a slight wave of his hand, “I don’t believe we have anything else to talk about… Connor, if you don’t mind.”

Very calmly Connor walked over and when the panicked businessman tried to get up, Connor put a firm hand on his shoulder and forced him back down into the seat before violently punching him in the face. He heard Hank say, “Again.” So again, he reared his arm back and slammed it into the man’s face. “Again.” Another punch. “Again.” Another punch. 

The businessman was able to plead, “I’ll get you the money!” Before Hank order, “Again!” and Connor put all of his weight behind the last punch. 

Now bloody and desperate, the man begged, “Please! I’ll get you extra!”

Finally, Hank gave in and said, “That’s enough, Connor.” When Connor stepped back to Hank’s side he watched as Hank leaned over the desk and threatened, “You have until tomorrow then I want my money or you won’t get off so easy.” Casually, Connor moved his jacket and showed off his handgun which was the last thing the businessman saw before Hank yelled, “Get in here, boys!” 

It didn’t take long for two large men who guarded the grounds to come into Hank’s office and carry the bloody man off. Now alone, Connor was still in his protection mindset. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were trained directly forward. He only snapped out of his spell when he heard Hank chuckle, “At ease, soldier. Come here and let me see.”

When he walked over to Hank, he held his sore and split-knuckled right hand out and waited while Hank looked it over and tutted, “Well that won’t do.” Reaching into one of the upper drawers on his desk, Hank pulled out his ‘Connor first aid kit’ and sprayed antiseptic spray over the cuts before wiping his hand clean while mumbling, “Slimy weasel thinks he can just borrow money and not pay it back. He’s not another thing coming, he owes me over half a million dollars.”

Connor leaned forward and mumbled into Hank’s ear, devilishly close, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you your money.” He was too happy with himself when he felt Hank tense before turning in his chair. 

“Mmm, I know… you can head to bed.” Hank wasn’t ready to do this with Connor. He could still let the kid get out of this, if they got involved with each other he wasn’t sure if Connor would still have a chance to get out of this life. So instead of giving in, here, he was pushing away the first great and beautiful thing in his life in years. 

But Connor was great at pushing back, “And you? You’ll be staying up and nervously pacing the halls? Get your ass into bed, Henry.” 

Hank, after picking his jaw up off the floor, decided that Connor not checking his attitude was one of the most attractive things he has ever seen and he has never wanted to bring Connor to bed more than he did at that moment. Instead, he smirked and reached back into the drawer, “I actually have something for you if you’re done being a brat.” 

He pulled out a wrapped set of shining silver brass knuckles and handed them to Connor who happily unwrapped the package and slid them onto his slender finger, feeling the heavy weight of them as he curled and uncurled his fingers around the comfortable grip. His smile was blinding as he thanked Hank, “I love them… thank you.”

Hank dodged his eye contact to avoid the pounding in his chest, “You deserve it.”

Connor looked like he desperately wanted to say something to Hank but instead, he cleared his throat and turned his head away, “Night, Boss.” 

After that, the tension between them just continued to grow with every look and long day that passed but it all came to a head one night at a club. Leaning against a wall, Hank was trying to focus on the owner’s business and which of the employees was skimming money which means they were taking Hank’s money. 

However, from where they were standing together person after person came up to them and flirted with Connor; trying to buy him drinks, get him to dance or go home with them. Men or women, it didn’t matter, they all fell for Connor’s slightly curled brown hair and slim, muscular body. But Hank was getting frustrated. He had to listen to the cheesy pick-up lines and watch as these strangers put their undeserving hands on Connor’s gorgeous body. 

The last time some sleazy girl with a short leather skirt on a shirt that showed off her cleavage came up to them and threw herself at Connor, Hank had enough. He waited until Connor awkwardly denied her advances before wrapping his large hands around Connor’s waist and pushed him against the wall before roughly pressing their lips together. Nothing about the kiss was sweet or gentle; it was a mess of lust and desperation. 

When they separated, Connor looked up at Hank through his thick lashes and asked, “Does this mean you’ll finally fuck me?”

Growling, Hank dragged Connor out of the building until Connor’s back thudded against the cold car. Hank leaned into him and used his finger to tilt Connor’s chin up so he could whisper, “I wish you would stop being such a fucking brat all the time, darlin’. I can’t stay in this position if I’m giving into you constantly.”

Not at all behaving himself, Connor pushed his hips forward against Hank’s half-hard but already large cock in his suit pants. He smirked knowing the effect he had on Hank, “You gone soft on me, boss?”

Hank kissed him one more time before opening up the back door and waiting for Connor to get in before sliding in beside him. Markus, who was trying to keep his eyes trained in front of him, drove them back to the house with no questions asked.

As soon as they were alone, their hands weren’t still; they were constantly touching, pulling, and grabbing. They were restless, needy, and desperate. Before he was aware his feet were even moving, Connor felt the back of his knees hit his bed. He fell back and looked up at Hank who stood over him, his cheeks flushed and his strong chest heaving. 

Their clothes fell away with no preamble, just a burning desire to see the expanses of warm flesh hidden away by the offending items. This time, when their lips locked again, it was intensified by the feeling of warmth that spread from where their skin met. 

Connor squirmed away from Hank just enough to grab a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer and hand it to the older man before spreading his legs wider. The stretch of Hank’s thick fingers was quick but mind-numbingly pleasurable. It didn’t take long for Connor to be reduced to begging for Hank to hurry up. 

Holding Connor in his arms, Hank pushed into him trying to be gentle as he softly whispered in his ear, “You feel so fucking good, darlin’.”

For once, Connor let himself be cared for; he let himself feel small and vulnerable and God, did it feel good. He felt his body trembling as sparks ran through his veins, “I c-can’t… Hank! Please!”

Still feeling in control, Hank chuckled and kissed Connor’s neck and collarbones, “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to ‘finally fuck you’ but as soon as you get a cock in you, you’re a mess.”

It didn’t take them long to find their perfect rhythm with Hank’s large hands wrapped around Connor’s thighs, he pushed them back and didn’t bother to hold back as he fucked Connor hard. When Connor’s babbling became incoherent, Hank grabbed his cock and stroked him a few times, “Go on, come for me. Show me how pretty you are when you let go.”

With being so overstimulated, that’s all it took for Connor to paint his stomach with come and loudly moan when he felt Hank hotly finish inside of him. After a moment, Hank pulled out of him and rolled over onto his side. Running a hand over his face, Hank sighed, “Holy shit.”

Connor, who was exhausted and felt like his bones were made of jelly, watched in disappointment as Hank stood up and got dressed, “You’re not staying?”

Hank knew Connor was trying not to act hurt but he could see right through it. He wanted to stay in bed and hold him but there was no way he could; he was still Connor’s boss and this was starting to drift into something that wasn’t lust, “Not tonight… We have nothing to do tomorrow, sleep in.” On his way out, he paused at the door and watched Connor get comfortable under the blankets with his back turned away from Hank. Silently, he turned off the light and shut the door behind him. 

The next morning, when Connor woke up, he opened his eyes to see a new gorgeously carved ivory switchblade on his bedside table. He reached out and grabbed it, holding it in his hand on his pillow. He knew it was dangerous to feel this way about anybody, especially in this life, especially his boss but when it came to Hank he couldn’t seem to help himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Opinions so far? More plot next chapter!


End file.
